


Shelter You

by Cig_and_Ammo



Category: X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Azazel is a damn trickster, Charles Is a Big Dorkface, Charles Xavier has a Ph.D in Adorable, Charles is a weirdo that attracts other weirdos, Emma is awesome, Erik and Charles sitting on a tree T-O-U-C-H-I-N-G, Erik is Crushing Harder than a 12-year Old Girl, Erik is Mr. Hot Stuff, Erik is a daddy-o, Erik is not a Happy Bunny, Ghosts are assholes, Ghosts as matchmaker, Ghosts have no sense of space, Ghosts just want help, Ghosts ruin things, Happy Story, Logan is a guard and part-time nanny, M/M, Master's Sun AU, No Mutant Powers I'm Sorry, Personal practice for horrible sexual innuendos, Raven is a BAMF, Sebastian Shaw you evil fuck, Sexual Tension, Smitten Erik, minimal angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-28
Updated: 2015-10-28
Packaged: 2018-04-28 14:23:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5093963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cig_and_Ammo/pseuds/Cig_and_Ammo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After waking up from a three-year coma, Charles discovers that he has acquired the ability to see ghosts! Frightened by the grotesque appearance and violent tendencies of the dead, Charles tries every known method to drive them away. </p><p>He has performed different rituals, bought every talisman in the market and memorized hundreds of prayers, but none has ever worked. Not until he learns that touching the grumpy movie-star, Erik Lehnsherr, disperses the ghosts away!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shelter You

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story based on the Korean Drama, Master's Sun. It's about a girl who can see ghosts and helps them get to the other side. She lives day-by-day, frightened and isolated, fighting against the deep need to sleep.
> 
> One night, after helping the ghost of an elderly woman, she hitches a ride from a grumpy and egotistical CEO of a shopping mall. Along the ride, she learns that the ghosts perish every time she touches him.
> 
> So, basically, this is a Master's Sun AU! I really love this drama and I thought it would be funny to make an AU out of it. Hope you enjoy it~!
> 
> I don't have a beta-reader. Also, English is my second language so bear with the errors. Sorry and thank you.

“No . . . please, _stop,_ ” are the words that trickle out his lips. With a few twists and turns against the sheets, Charles tries to work his way out of the terror that’s slowly creeping in. “No . . . please, I ca--, not anymore. I can’t _help_ you. No . . .”

He keeps on . . .

“Please…I’m too tired.”

But, the more he pleads . . .

“Just leave ——no _!_ ”

. . . the worse it gets.

“NO!” Abruptly, his eyes fly open and his body sits up, pulling him out from the nightmare he has been submerged in. With the alertness of a startled prey, his eyes scan blindly in the dark, attention lingering in the corners that he’s sure are there during the light of day.

 _A dream,_ Charles chases his breath, fighting through blinding panic.  _A dream. . . it was only a dream_.

But, learning that it wasn’t real does little to incense his fear. A nightmare is one thing . . .

**_c R E a K k K k k K k_ **

The real deal is another.

Gulping quite audibly within the silent room, Charles hugs himself, rubbing his arms soothingly with his hands to coax the goose bumps off his skin. “I—is . . . someone there . . ?”

**_Y e S sS_ **

Charles closes his eyes tightly, wishing he hasn’t asked.

**_O vE r He R E . . ._ **

He hears…

**_——L o O K b e Hi ND y O U_ **

…and knows he should follow, but his head refuses to turn and his back is as still as stone.

**_StO P I G No Ri ng M E !_ **

_Oh God._ He internally prays. _Please, no . . ._ But the creaks get louder each second that tick by. Charles can’t help but grimace as he hears bones snapping against one another.

_Is it broken…?_

_Is its head snapped?_

Truthfully, he doesn’t really want to know.

**_I s Aid L ooK BE h InD Y o U . . ._ **

Charles shakes his head. His hand clenches tight on his blanket as his body trembles. The vehemence he put proves futile however, when cold, clammy hands grasp both his shoulders in a tight grip.

**_N O W_ **

Charles gasps out of shock, eyes opening impossibly wide.

The whisper has startled him so badly that he lost the will to fight and like a mindless robot, he follows through the command. For what feels like ages, their eyes finally meet--

\--right there and then, he screams.

: : :

“Sorry for the inconvenience, sir. We’ll be sure to send her replacement at the most possible time—”

Erik heaves a long-suffering sigh. The rest of the caller’s words drowns out of his focus as he attempts to quell the rage he feels.

Being a single-father of three children proves to be more of a challenge than he first thought. Financially speaking, he is by no means suffering— if being one of the highest-paid actors has anything to go by— but it seems to be the main reason why he’s failing as a parent too.

Most of his time is spent in taping movies and attending interviews that he rarely have any spare time for his kids —leaving them in the care of hired nannies who never manage to stay for more than a week due to professed bullying from his children —which Erik finds odd, because for the life of him, his children have been the most behaved kids he has ever known —not that he has spent a lot of time with different kids other than those he acts with —but when he’s at home, they are never difficult to deal with. If anything, they are the nicest and most attentive, loving children a parent could never dare to ask.

The agencies just give him incompetent nannies. He’s pretty sure of that.

“No.” He cuts off the woman on the other line abruptly.

“ade——Pardon, sir? We know we’re having difficulties as of the moment but I’m sure the next ag——.”

“I no longer need your services.” With that out of his mouth, he ends the call and pinches the bridge of his nose.

Azazel watches him from the front mirror, regarding him with amusement—an expression which only furthers his sinking mood.

“Not needing their services? Going full da-da now?”

Erik purses his lips. He isn’t really in the mood for jokes. He is extremely exhausted. All he wants to do is retreat to bed, sleep and never get up.

Azazel seems to get the hint and turns his full attention back on the road. But as soon as they round a corner, they meet heavy traffic which is very unusual at this time of night.

“You’ve got to be—” Erik doesn’t even have the energy to finish his sentence, decidedly massaging his throbbing head instead. “Traffic? This time of night?”

Azazel shrugs. "I can get us out of here through a different route. Though, it may take a while.”

Erik looks outside, deciding whether to give it a go, but seeing as the traffic is moving at a snail’s pace, he waves a hand, letting his driver have his way.

Without ado, Azazel maneuvers out their lane, venturing to isolated one-way paths in between shady buildings. The paranoid will find the unknown routes uncomfortable, but Erik trusts the people under his employ, especially Azazel.

If there’s one man who can transport anyone to anywhere, Azazel is your guy.

It doesn’t take long for the car to move out of the skimpy streets. But now that they are out of the towering and smothering buildings, rain that hasn’t been there earlier is now falling heavily upon them.

Erik watches the water cascade on the window closest to him, observing how the view quickly blurs into smudges.  When the unclear images of lampposts change to wide greens, he knows they’re in the park. There isn’t that much green in the city other than the central park after all.

“Erik?”

Erik removes his attention from the window. “Yeah?” But no words are needed as he follows the point of Azazel’s index finger. There —outside— stands a man in white. A hand is raised —the thumb sticking up, motioning to the direction they are heading to.

“No.” Erik answers immediately. God knows what kind of weird and sick bastards venture in the middle of the park at night.

They pass the stranger and Erik crosses his arms on his chest, already thinking of his warm, comfortable bed when the car stops abruptly.

Erik groans, his irritation evident in the furrow of his brows. “What now?”

Azazel tries to get the car moving, but it refuses to run. He looks back and shrugs at Erik.

Suspiciously, he thinks his driver is doing this on purpose and just when he is about to voice it out, a door opens. The hitchhiker in wet, white raincoat enters and sits beside him.

“Thank God,” the stranger exclaims as he unbutton his coat. “For a minute there, I thought you weren’t going to stop. I’m really happy you did though. God knows how long I’ve been walking and you’re the only car to pass by—.”

The stranger rambles on as Erik and Azazel regard him silently.

When the stranger notices the lack of response, he stops, brushing his hair back with his hand.

With that action, Erik's world momentarily stops. Eyes of cornflower blue hue has stolen the normal turn of time. It is majestic. However, the dark circles around those gorgeous eyes break the spell and pull him back to reality. 

The stranger glances at them, taking in their expressions and flushes under their scrutiny.

“How rude of me! I’m Charles Xavier,” the stranger introduces while reaching out for a handshake.

Erik raises a brow, making no motion to take it.

The stranger —Charles— flushes even more, slowly retreating his hand in embarrassment, only for Azazel to grab and shake it before it is gone.

“I’m Azazel, just Azazel. This man here,” he nods his head towards Erik, “—is my boss, Erik Lehnsherr.”

Erik and Azazel prepare themselves for the flurry of, “I knew it! You’re Erik! The actor!” and other words along those lines, but they gape as the man just smile at them. If he recognizes Erik, he makes no sign of it at all. Erik tries not to balk—despite his ego being hurt by a little.

“Thank you, Mr. Azazel…” Charles averts his gaze and meets Erik’s. “Thank you, Mr. Lehnsherr.” He flusters once more when realizes that his hand is still clasped with Azazel’s. Slowly, he pulls it back, muttering apologies.

“Where are you heading?” Azazel asks.

“Oh, I only need a ride closest to the west gate. I’ll walk my way to the bus stop from there.”

“Nonsense, it’s raining heavily and it’s a long walk to the nearest stop. We’ll take you all the way.”

Erik, for the first time since Charles entered the car, averts his scrutinizing gaze to glare heatedly at Azazel which Azazel just expertly ignore, focusing instead in starting the car which weirdly enough, has started to work.

Azazel can't be more obvious, can he? Erik resists the urge to roll his eyes. 

“I am terribly sorry for this,” the accent of a proper Englishman suddenly cuts through his musings. 

Attention caught, Erik unconsciously focuses all his senses in those eyes and its starting make him think that those eyes are stolen from the arctic because it miraculously cooled off his infamous temper. And that thought irritated him. Not wanting to blow a fuse in front of the stranger, Erik chooses to look outside and ignore everyone in the car with him.

His escape, however, is short-lived.

The car drifts abruptly to the left. Erik barely has a second to brace himself which isn’t really difficult given that he is sitting at the left side of the backseat. What he isn’t prepared for though is the sudden weight draping over him and the distinguishable shiver that follows upon the contact—almost like an electric shock minus the pain.

Erik locks eyes with Charles’ shocked blues, not realizing his long arms are embracing the smaller man tightly. How long they have been entwined with each other is lost to him, feeling like the world has stopped just to let them stay in their rather precarious position.

The stillness, however, is broken when a rather awkward cough cuts through the silence. Just as abrupt as the drift has occurred, Erik unclasps his arms, almost pushing Charles away in haste, acting like the touch has scalded him.

Charles, on the other hand, dislodges and jumps away —his face evidently burning.

“Az, just what th—”

Azazel removes his hands from the steering wheel —not really alarming since the car isn’t moving— and holds them up to placate him. “Something suddenly crossed the road.” He informs, looking outside the windows as if trying to find a dead body.

Charles, who has been looking curiously at his arms while Azazel explains, stiffens abruptly. The blush he has earlier instantly perishes, turning pale at an alarming rate.

Suddenly feeling worried, Erik asks. “ _You_  —are you okay?”

But Charles doesn’t pay his question any mind, only making him more worried than one should for a stranger. “Hey—” He reaches out a hand, planning to touch the hitchhiker’s shoulder, and shake him awake.

However, before his hand can reach, Charles shrieks loudly, causing his hand to pause halfway. He watches as Charles cover his eyes with his arms, hiking his legs up the seat, and scrambles away. “W-what do you want _?_ ”

Erik is dumbfounded, the warring instincts to fight or flee occupies his thought process. He lets himself go and the next thing he knows, both of his hands have made their way on the frightened man’s arms, turning the body to face him.

“Hey, look at me. Look at me.” He says—his voice unbelievably soft. No use scaring the frightened man further, his mind must have thought.

It has taken a while before Charles' frantic shouts dies down. Erik gently pries the man’s arms from his face, holding both pale, thin wrists with his hands. Even then, the man's blue eyes are screwed shut. “Shhh, it’s okay. Come on, open your eyes.” Absently, his thumbs rub circles on the exposed skin of Charles' wrists, feeling the same electric jolt running through his fingertips.

Finally, Charles opens his eyelids, blue eyes grabbing purchase of his grey-greens before breaking the contact in favor of looking left and right —searching for something that Erik has no idea of.

Charles' eyes locks with his once more. However, this time, something has changed—the earlier panic and fright has dimmed, slowly turning into confusion if the furrowing of his brows are any indication.

“Charles? Charles, are you okay?” Azazel inquires, voice uncharacteristically free of mockery. Charles turns beet red and Erik —having a grasp of what he's doing—let goes of the smaller man’s wrists.

“Y-yeah. I’m fi—AAAAAAAAHHHHH!”

Erik and Azazel startles at the scream, almost jumping in unison when Charles hugs Erik’s right arm, hiding his face on the crook of his neck.

 _Just what the fuck is going on!?_ Erik stiffens as he sits motionlessly, letting Charles clutch him tight.

None of them makes any movement. Not until Charles opens his eyes again and moves reluctantly away from him. The hands, however, are still grasping his arm.

“…wh-what?” Charles whispers, looking frightened but bewildered at the same time.

“Charles…?” Azazel asks. “…what's wrong..?”

But it seems Charles hasn’t heard Azazel’s query at all. Instead, he’s focused on the empty passenger seat beside Azazel.

Charles averts his gaze to his hands still clasping Erik’s arm. They see him release a shaky breath before he let go.

It feels like everything is on repeat from then. Charles’ eyes widen and Erik almost jumps when the smaller man grabs his wrist—eyes not leaving the empty passenger seat. The fright in those big eyes slowly dissipates and Erik almost gets his breath taken away as sparks of life and delight gradually takes over the smaller man’s unearthly blue eyes, eradicating the tiredness that has occupied it.

Enraptured, he barely registers as Charles repeats the touching and letting go for several more times.

When Charles finally meets his gaze, this time he looks so happy his eyes are brimming with tears. Erik has no idea why and all the more puzzled when Charles speaks.

“Oh God—” Charles stifles a sob, laughing bubbly. “I can’t believe this. _It’s_ gone.”

“Gone..?” _It?_ Slowly, Erik realizes that Charles is clutching his right hand like it’s his lifeline.

And to Charles, it is—Erik, probably, is.

 


End file.
